


Last Night's Clothes and Tomorrow's Dreams

by honorata



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 03:31:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7960777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honorata/pseuds/honorata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime and Brienne star in yet another tried-but-true "there's only one room left at the inn" scenario. Because why not? Mostly true to canon. Mostly fluffy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Night's Clothes and Tomorrow's Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first time, please be gentle!

He checks the door latch one more time and turns toward her. She is already in the bed, working out how far she can stretch her legs. Not quite all the way, it turns out, unless she wants her feet to stick out. Which she doesn’t.

“Only a few more nights of this, thank the gods. I’m sure I was a very small boy when I last felt this excited at the thought of returning home. I was usually more eager to leave.”

She raises her head from the slightly musty pillow, and glances at him. Even in the dim candlelight his tired face beams a particular happiness at her; yet her own happiness she has worked to keep tamed within, under tight control. She still has some fears she can’t fully discount. She finally voices one of them:

“Part of me still can't even figure out how we got this far. I mean, of course I _can_ , and yet...it just seems so hard to believe.”

He raises an eyebrow in surprise, and she continues:

“I admit, I often think I must actually be asleep, dreaming.”

“Dreaming? Like your fever dreams, when you were with the Brotherhood? Pod said you kept whimpering. You kept crying out for me.”

He skirts the straw pallet on the floor where her squire is already snoring gently. The bedframe creaks as he climbs in, leans back for a minute to blow out the candle, and curls himself around her.

She is glad that the darkness hides her flaming cheeks. _Kingslayer’s whore_. The words still have some bite. After recent days, why does the name even bother her? For the moment, it even carries a hint of truth. She resolves to think more on it, definitely before they reunite with his men. For now she works out how to put her feelings into words for him.

“Well, I have little memory of calling for you…though yes, that is what they all said, but...no.”

“No?”

“This is...a much more pleasant dream.”

“To be sure, wench.”

He presses the softest of kisses to the back of her neck. Even through her exhaustion, she notes the pleasant shiver that runs down her spine.

“But as for me, if this is a dream - well, it’s a sweet one, but I have some even nicer things to look forward to: a warm bath, clean clothes, a decent meal. The Septon, and some vows. You, all to myself. The sooner, the better. And I plan to be awake when I finally get to enjoy them.”

She feels him shifting a bit, drawing the furs more tightly around them. She notes the weight of his arm slung over her waist: still surprising and new, but so, so warm.

She is growing drowsier by the minute. His description of the comforts awaiting them sounds heavenly. She wants them too, and yet. She has the ability to be steadfast in many things; somehow she can’t count their future together on that list. Not quite.

She inwardly curses her uncertainty, and he seems to finally realize her silence is an answer on its own.

“Well, if you still think this is a dream, why don't you just go to sleep, Brienne?”

His voice is raspy with his own fatigue, breath wafting through her hair, and she fights to stay awake, her mind sorting through the illogic of his words.

“How do I go to sleep if I'm already asleep? That makes no kind of sense.”

“Exactly. So perhaps you’re awake. Perhaps you’re not. But if you can fall asleep, you'll surely wake again. And when you wake, I'll still be here. And that's how you'll know. Trust me, wench.”

It sounds like he’s smiling. For a moment she wants nothing more than to turn over and see his face, but it is nearly pitch black now, and honestly the sleep her body needs outweighs the wants of her heart. So she speaks her reply to the wall:

“Jaime. You know I trust you.”

He briefly tightens his hold on her.

“I’m still glad to hear the truth of it from your lips, my lady.”

 _My lady. Wench. Brienne._ Just that morning he’d called her _Sweetling_. She ponders whether she should use pet names for him now too, but she can think of nothing finer than _Jaime_ before she drifts off.

* * * * *

When she wakes, it is to a rooster crowing down in the yard at the first sunrise anyone has seen in weeks. She sticks her chilly feet back under the covers they popped out from at some point in the night; there’s a yelp from Jaime as she tries to warm them against his.

She slowly realizes: her sleep was completely dreamless.

She is still here.

Jaime is still here, even if he’s currently shifting his legs away from her toes and mock grumbling about how he’s had his fill of frozen things.

She rolls over and contemplates whether she is brave enough to kiss him good morning, forgetting the fact that they are not alone. She gets halfway there before her young squire dutifully reminds them from his spot on the floor with some very loud yawning and stretching.

Oh, yes. Right. Pod is here too. She blushes and shifts her course, settling for a peck on Jaime’s cheek. Regardless, the look in his eyes holds a promise of _later,_ even if later is likely a few days off, in reality.

It’s still better than any dream she’s ever had.

 


End file.
